Agony of Loss
by Heiwako
Summary: Sequel to Joy of Touch. Cicero's life isn't perfect, in fact it's downright horrible, but he's happy because he's finally not alone. Elaninde the Listener suspects something is wrong and will stop at nothing to destroy Cicero's happiness. M for sexual content and abuse.


A/N: This is a direct sequel to Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf and the Joy of Touch. This is the most depressing thing I've ever written. If you are not comfortable with non-con and abuse, you may wish to skip this.

* * *

"Cicero has been too cheerful lately," Arnbjorn growled. He took another huge bite of meat while watching the Keeper skipping to the main dinner table to get more fruit for the Listener. Elaninde and Arnbjorn were sitting at the small two person table that used to belong to Astrid and her husband. "I don't like it."

"Me either," Elaninde agreed. She rested her chin on her hand as she watched the Imperial chattering and giggling with the initiates. Cicero knew better than to linger and keep the Listener waiting, but that didn't stop him from being friendly with the rest of his family as he attended to his duties.

Elaninde's green eyes narrowed as she careful observed Cicero's interactions. Despite her generally selfish attitude, she was an astute onlooker. It was not possible to not learn how to read all the small ticks and tells of the people around you when you were a courtier of the Summerset Isles. Most lesser races were painfully easy to read. Simple needs and simple pleasures made them easy to bend or break.

Cicero was…different. Elaninde hated to admit it, but the Fool of Hearts was closed to her. The jester was always smiling and laughing regardless of whether he was happy or sad. He was never shy about his dedication to the Brotherhood and the Night Mother, which should have made him easy to control. Use the Tenets and you could use the Keeper, right?

Only it was wrong.

The more Elaninde pushed, the more Cicero pushed back. It all started with his tattling to Astrid. She had thought that acting like Arnbjorn's submission was part of her natural due as Listener would have made the little man back off on how she was violating a Tenet. She never believed that he actually would approach the Nord leader and let her know what was going on.

Not that Elaninde had had any plans to hide it. She knew that sooner or later Astrid would find out, probably from Arnbjorn's guilty conscience. The weeks of taunting the wolf, playing with him, using him had filled Elaninde with delight. The chance of being caught at any moment had sent shivers down her spine. But the little fool had cut her game short and that was unallowable.

Cicero had always been her servant since she was named Listener, but after she became the official leader of Sanctuary, she had taken it to a new level of obedience. It wasn't merely enough to expect him to Keep her with constant pampering. No, she meant to break him by making him do the most menial of tasks and any time he dared to complain she would bring up the Tenets.

She loved how it galled him. The petulant looks and the moment of confusion as he mentally battled between meekly following the Tenets versus telling her off made her cackle with glee. However, Cicero drew the armor of his motley about him and played the fool in the most literal sense. Any command given had to be spoken painfully precisely because he would find ways to get around the spirit of her words while staying true to the letter.

Elaninde was infuriated the first time it had happened. Cicero had taken her by surprise with his little trick of cleaning her room as commanded but in doing so he had rearranged all of the furniture. She still wasn't sure how he had moved the heavy wooden pieces since no one in Sanctuary would dare help him lest they draw her disfavor too. But once she had soothed her temper the Altmer had to admit that she was also amused. It was pleasant to have a new opponent now that Astrid was dead.

It had been regretful that Elaninde and Arnbjorn had not returned to Falkreath sooner after the Penitus Oculatus attack. Astrid must have lain there for days, the pain from the burns that covered her entire body exquisite. How Astrid must have suffered lying there – every gasp agony, the slightest breeze or movement sheer pain as well as the eventual madness from the hunger and thirst. What Elaninde would have given to have been there to witness it firsthand instead of relying on her own twisted imagination!

It was probably for the best they had tarried. Not only did they not have to worry about being ambushed by the Emperor's personal guards, but Elaninde would have made Arnbjorn kill Astrid with her own Blade of Woe – which was now strapped as a constant reminder on Elaninde's hip. The look on betrayal on Astrid's destroyed face would have been most satisfying, but the longer, more torturous death was much more appropriate than the swift end the wolf would have given his beloved wife.

Besides, there's always a breaking point on pushing people and that would have been Arnbjorn's. Elaninde may not have as much desire for him now that Astrid was gone, but he was strong, loyal, and useful. Never throw away a tool that could still be used and never make a wolf wish to bite your hand.

"Ah, great and powerful Listener!" Cicero chirped as he spun around in a pirouette with the platter of fruit. Despite her werefox blood, Elaninde preferred fruit to flesh for her meals. "Loyal Cicero has returned with a feast fit for one such as yourself!"

"Be careful, clown," Arnbjorn growled, "or you'll spill something!"

"Cicero would never drop anything!" the jester protested. The platter fell from his hands, sprawling fruit everywhere. Before it could hit the ground, Cicero snagged them from the air and started to juggle platter, apples, pears and grapes in a complicated pattern. Applause erupted from the initiates as they watched the jester's performance.

Elaninde ran her fingers on her lips as she thought. The very first time she had sent Cicero to his room it had been because of pretty much this exact thing. She carefully watched Cicero's face as he spun the items in the air. Yes, just as she thought, his eyes were flickering towards her waiting for her reaction.

"That's enough," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I wish to eat, not watch a show."

"As the Listener commands," Cicero smirked with a bow. He took his seat on the floor by Elaninde's feet. Those furtive glances continued. The Keeper was clever enough to not directly look at her. Instead he tilted his head and slowly slid his eyes to watch her.

Was he gloating because she hadn't punished him? Or…could it be that he_ wanted_ to be punished?

Elaninde decided to take a chance and do nothing in response to any of Cicero's antics the rest of the night. No matter how much he sang or capered or otherwise drove Arnbjorn to snap at him, Elaninde left him be.

It was just the barest of motions, but Elaninde could have sworn Cicero looked more and more frantic as time passed and he was not banished to solitary confinement. The look of relief when she finally dismissed him for the night after he had undressed and oiled her was unfeigned and expected at least. Elaninde chewed on her nail as she tried to figure out the newest enigma Cicero had given her. The threat of the darkness and loneliness had always been her greatest weapons against the Keeper. So what had changed?

* * *

Cicero sighed as he entered the clean kitchen. Nothing had been left out for him as usual and he did not have permission to eat during dinner because he was supposed to be too busy serving the Listener. Even if Elaninde had been willing to allow Cicero a meal no doubt she would keep him hopping to the point he wouldn't be able to eat anyway.

His poor stomach grumbled loudly as he went up the stairs to the initiates' room to get to his own private room. It was a remnant of Astrid's era when he had been bequeathed private quarters befitting his rank as Keeper. It was probably all a façade on her behalf to keep him out of the way and away from the others, but at least it had been a nice façade unlike the sham that was Elaninde's reign.

The jester smiled when he saw Phoebe's empty bed and his step quickened. She had been gone for a couple of weeks for a contract in Morthal and he had missed her terribly. When he had seen her at dinner, his grin had been wide enough to swallow an entire horker. Although he had made sure to talk to all of the initiates, it had been her he had been showing off for.

When the Keeper opened the door to his room, he laughed when he saw all of the lit candles decorating his room. The glow was soft, but lit the room in an almost magical way. More importantly, Phoebe was sprawled on his bed, her robe falling open to reveal the swell of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach and the silken cloth of her smalls.

"Took you long enough," she commented when she looked up from her book. She marked her place and put her book on Cicero's nightstand. Her hair, now shoulder length, fell forward covering her face. Cicero drank in her features as she reached up to tuck it back behind her ear.

"Cicero tried, sweet sister," he complained as he skipped over to the bed and kissed her on the cheek. "But Elaninde was particularly stubborn on keeping Cicero's company. Maybe she's finally falling for him."

"She better not!" Phoebe playfully growled. "You're mine." She jumped off the bed and motioned to the table that dominated the center part of the room. "Sit," she commanded as she slid a covered platter to Cicero. When he pulled it off, he found a plate of tonight's dinner waiting for him.

"Thank you," he whispered, afraid to say more lest he start to cry. The last time he had eaten had been in the early predawn when he was making Elaninde's breakfast platter to deliver to her room. It was now long past midnight and the small meal had seemed forever ago.

"I tried to keep it warm," she apologized. Phoebe sat next to Cicero and rested her chin in her hands as she leaned on the table. "I was afraid to leave it on the fire in case someone tried to throw it away."

It used to be that a pot of something would be left simmering at all hours in case a sibling came in late from a contract or if someone preferred late hours or any reason really. Cicero really thought it leant to the feeling of family he used to find in Sanctuary. But one of Elaninde's many changes had been to make food only available during meal times. Otherwise people were expected to fend for themselves and the pantry was not open for common use. That meant everyone had to hoard their own or go up to Falkreath's inn.

"It's wonderful," Cicero assured her. He grinned impishly. "Although it seems a shame to be feasting on this instead of you." The angry growl of poor Cicero's empty stomach belayed his comment.

"Finish your meal and you'll have earned your dessert, my Keeper," Phoebe retorted. She shifted so her robe fell further open. "How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?"

Cicero wolfed down his meal, barely tasting it despite his hunger. He had another appetite to fill!

* * *

Later the candles had burned low and Phoebe was curled up in the crook of Cicero's arm. She was drowsy and quickly falling asleep as usual after their time together. She still had not allowed him to take her maidenhead, but he hadn't asked for it either. It was such a small price for everything else she gave him so willingly.

"You should let me say something to her," Phoebe mumbled. "It's not right how she treats you."

"Cicero agrees, but it would change nothing except the Listener would know there was someone who cared for poor Cicero," the Keeper sighed as he smoothed back Phoebe's hair. She had started growing it out after he had commented that he liked long hair. "She would construe to keep us apart or use you to hurt Cicero."

"She's cruel."

"She's Mother's chosen," Cicero commented. Phoebe glared, but wisely kept her mouth shut about that particular aspect of Elaninde. As the Keeper, Cicero never would have tolerated anything negative about the Night Mother despite his personal feelings for her Listener.

Phoebe kissed Cicero and stroked his hair as her lips gently kissed him from lips to shoulder. He worried for the day would come when she would suggest that they could just leave together. There was nothing forcing them to stay here except Cicero's loyalty to the Night Mother and his role as Keeper. If that day were to come, Cicero would have to end their relationship. But just as he did not ask her to break her one vow, she did not ask him to break his.

"Just be careful, okay?" she said instead as she nuzzled against him. "She's lazy but clever. Keep up what you did tonight and I won't have to say anything."

* * *

It had been a year since the fall and resurrection of Falkreath. More importantly it had been about six months since Phoebe had come into Cicero's life. Although she would be gone for days and weeks at a time to fulfill contracts, she made it bearable under Elaninde's rule. Being sent to his room was never a punishment when she was in Sanctuary, but when she was gone it took everything in Cicero to not go mad. Hours passed like minutes with Phoebe to hold and kiss in the dark while minutes felt like days when Cicero was alone.

It was best when Elaninde went out on contract, but those were few and far in-between. There was no need to risk herself when there were initiates to do it for her. She lacked for nothing since the Brotherhood always took a cut from the contracts to keep the Sanctuary running. Sometimes she would be in a mood to shop for clothes or "civilized" company which meant she craved the company of other Altmer or the Justicars of the Thalmor Embassy.

Elaninde was the daughter of a noble in the Summerset courts and was quite welcome in the political outpost in Skyrim. She shared the Thalmor attitude of domination and control of the lesser races and had been all too eager to slay Titus Mede II when the Night Mother had commanded her to do so.

"Tell me about them," Phoebe asked one day when Cicero was placing flowers on the old Falkreath family members' graves. "You visit here so often, but I know nothing about them."

"Festus Krex was a grumpy old spellcaster," Cicero chuckled. "He was the first to greet Cicero when Cicero arrived. Nazir once killed twenty men by himself. Gabriella liked taking long walks in the moonlight and knitting." He paused, hovering over Astrid's grave. "Astrid was a Pretender. She thought she was the Mother of the family and would not accept the Night Mother as the rightful leader. She thought to kill the Listener and Cicero too. It was her betrayal that killed them all."

"Yet you honor her with a grave?"

Cicero shrugged as he picked dead flowers off the Nord's final resting place. "Cicero was not going to just leave her out for the ravens to pick at until only gleaming bone remained. She was a fool, but part of the family and Cicero never forgets one who shared Sanctuary."

"What about the last spot?" Phoebe asked, pointing to Babette's memorial. "It doesn't look like a grave like the rest."

"The unchild was never found," Cicero answered. "Sweet Babette would often lure other predators to their deaths, feasting on their blood as they had feasted on the tears and fears of their young victims. She was rather good at playing the child, you see, since she never grew older than ten." He sighed. "Cicero hates the not knowing. It reminds him of Garnag and his lie of returning."

Cicero had told Phoebe all about his time in Cheydinhal. How he had come to live there, the people he had met, being named Keeper, and even using the one-eyed Orc to kill Rasha for lying about being the Listener. He had not shared the Binding Words, of course, but he had not shied away from the truth of the matter.

"Have you ever thought to look for her?"

"How?" Cicero laughed bitterly. "Cicero is barely given time to attend to Mother, much less look for a wayward daughter of hers. Much like Cicero could not go looking for Garnag when he disappeared."

"Your best bet would be to go to Dragon's Bridge," Phoebe mused. "If the Penitus Oculatus did not kill her, they would have taken her there. The Empire is big on taking care of orphans. They would have returned her to their outpost to look for signs of her parents. Once that failed, a family might have adopted her or someone would have remembered her enough to at least let us know."

"The Listener and the Sheepdog killed all of the Penitus Oculatus," Cicero reminded her. "Elaninde could not risk them finding us here again and silenced them."

"Yes, but she wouldn't have bothered to look for Babette," Phoebe countered, "and she didn't kill the villagers. Just the men in the outpost." She smiled. "If you like, the next time there's a contract in Solitude or near the Dragon Bridge I'll stop by and discretely ask around. Say I'm part of her adoptive family and we're looking for her."

"You would do that for Cicero?" he asked.

"For you I would do anything," she said before kissing him.

The next day she was gone. She hadn't said goodbye, but she had left three shiny yellow stones by Babette's memorial to indicate she thought she would be gone for three weeks. It was their simple system to avoid attention. The different colors were for units of time - blue for days, yellow for weeks, and Sithis forbid, red for months. The number of stones determined how long she would be gone. Simple, but efficient.

* * *

Two weeks passed when the Shout ripped through the air. Cicero was picking flowers for oils for Mother when the cry of "DOVAHKIIN!" rocked the world. He dropped his basket and ran back to Sanctuary to make sure the Night Mother was okay. Falkreath was in an uproar as the initiates ran amok. It seemed no one knew what was going on.

For a moment, Cicero wished Arnbjorn was there. The werewolf would have calmed the lot with a single roar, but the Speaker had left for Riften to talk to a petitioner two days ago. Elaninde merely stood in the middle of the common area, her face passive and unreadable, while wide-eyed initiates chattered around her. When he realized no one was going to be any help at all, he ran up to the Night Mother's chapel to check on her. Some debris had fallen from the ceiling, but that was easily cleaned up. He spent the next hour curled up next to her coffin waiting for the excitement to die down.

Elaninde finally sent most of Sanctuary out to investigate the matter. The next several days the Listener stalked about Sanctuary. If she had a tail, it would have been lashing. Her mood was even more abrasive than usual and she insisted that Cicero wait on her hand and foot all hours of day and night.

Cicero was in a good mood. Despite the chaos within Sanctuary, he was happy. Phoebe should be home soon. Even if she hadn't found Babette yet, she would return in a few days as promised by her stones. It would be wonderful to hold her again.

He shouldn't have allowed himself to be distracted. His hands wandered as they massaged oil into Elaninde's bare skin. He had taken off his tunic and cap because he had given the Listener a bath and had learned the hard way that it was better to place his clothes to the side than allow her to splash him and soak the material. She wouldn't let him dry off and the last time had resulted in a chest cold so bad Elaninde actually had to let him take a few days of rest.

The idea of a break was nice, but it was not worth being ill. Not only did Cicero have to still oil Mother, but he wanted to be well when Phoebe returned.

A soft moan from Elaninde drew his attention back to his task. She was sprawled on her bed, completely naked and glistening in the firelight from the oil Cicero had rubbed into her skin. He hadn't noticed the flush look to her golden skin before, the fuller swell of her breasts, the slight widening of her hips. "Listener is in heat," he commented.

"Yes, and Arnbjorn is nowhere to be seen," she grumbled. Although the mage enjoyed her beast blood, she had commented that it was inconvenient at times. Apparently she went through cycles like her fox totem. Her green eyes flickered over Cicero, taking him in hungrily. "You know, you're not that bad looking for a man when you're not wearing that stupid outfit, my Keeper."

Cicero tried to not flinch when Elaninde's hand trailed down his chest. "Come closer," she commanded. When Cicero obeyed, she slid her hand down into his pants. He tried to not grimace as she ran her nails over his skin as she cupped his balls. "Take it off."

"Listener?" Cicero asked. Elaninde had never expressed any interest in him before, something Cicero had gotten progressively more grateful. There had been a time he would have offered his services if he had thought she wouldn't have laughed at him, but he had been happy to simply serve.

"Take your pants off," she commanded, her voice hard and no nonsense. Cicero nervously obeyed as Elaninde laid back, her gaze raking over his body creepily. "The smalls too."

Any hope of Elaninde only wanting to hurt him was quickly vanishing as Cicero's underclothes fell next to his pants. "Listener?" he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. He drew closer to her as she beckoned him.

Cicero hissed as Elaninde ran her hands up and down Cicero's hips. His traitorous flesh stiffened from her touch. The Keeper had felt many things since Elaninde was named Listener – pride, joy, disappointment, fear and mostly sorrow – but he had never felt shame before. He served all of Elaninde's needs as he had the Night Mother, but never this.

"Cicero is unworthy!" he proclaimed as Elaninde started to stroke his growing erection. He quickly stepped away. "Loyal Cicero would gladly Keep the Listener, but not in this way."

"Are you telling me 'no'?" she asked, her emerald eyes narrowing. Cicero swallowed, not sure how to proceed.

"Cicero is not comfortable with this," he said. His eyes flickered away from Elaninde's cruel gaze.

"You cannot tell me 'no'," Elaninde smirked as she crawled on her hands and knees so she was inches from Cicero's face. She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. Her blood red hair pooled around her shoulders and fell forwards in a cascade. "Or do you not obey the Tenets anymore?"

"Cicero always obeys!" he protested.

"Then come here!" Elaninde cried as she jerked Cicero onto the bed. He pounced hard against the furs as he landed on his back.

Cicero's hands fruitlessly tried to push Elaninde away as she hovered over him. Her mouth was full of teeth as she leered over him. It was impossible to get a hold of her thanks to the oil covering her body.

"Listener, Listener, please!" Cicero pleaded. Not this, not this. Everything else he could endure, but not this. He didn't even get to lie with his sweet Phoebe this way, he didn't want to give it to hateful Elaninde.

"Stop resisting," she hissed, sounding much too pleased. "Don't try to stop me, Keeper."

"Cicero is saying no!" He would take any punishment she would mete out. Cicero finally had enough. If Elaninde was playing some sick game to break him, then fine. The bitch could win. He was not going to be used like this!

"If you do not submit to me, then I'll banish you from the Brotherhood," Elaninde purred. "You'll be stripped of your title of Keeper and it will be given to another. No one will talk to you and you'll not be given Sanctuary. Thus is the punishment of those who defy me."

"Not that!" Cicero wailed. "Anything but that!" His hands fell weakly to his sides. "Cicero understands…and obeys."

"Of course you do," Elaninde purred. "You always obey." She ran her hand down Cicero's face before slapping it sharply. "You obey, but you don't know your place. You will one day. You will accept my superiority fully and bow without that damnable pride." She barked with laughter.

Cicero closed his eyes as Elaninde ran her nails down his chest. This time her sharp nails cut his skin, causing blood to well up and trail down Cicero's body. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue against one of the wounds, tasting the blood as she straddled him. She was dripping wet as she impaled herself onto him.

Cicero bit down on his lip as Elaninde moved against him. He might not be able to stop the tears from falling down his face, but he could at least not give the Listener the satisfaction of hearing him cry. Elaninde crushed him as her legs tightened painfully around him as she pushed her full weight down on him.

Not nearly soon enough, she shuddered from her orgasm, practically barking with pleasure. As she fell to her side, she kicked Cicero rudely out of the bed. He landed in a heap, feeling filthy in a way killing had never made him feel bad.

As Cicero reached for the motley, Elaninde snapped. "Leave that here. I won't have you wearing it, not even during your own time. It's disgraceful with all of those patches," she declared. "As my Keeper, you will wear something fitting your position in the Brotherhood. Tomorrow we will travel to Solitude to get new garments for you."

"This is Cicero's last trophy," he said weakly. He hugged the faded velvet to his chest. "Cicero has had this a long time."

"And it is time to let it go," Elaninde sniffed. "I don't trust you with it, so place it in my dresser so I can keep any eye on it."

"This is mine," he repeated.

"Not anymore," Elaninde said. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

Cicero shuffled over to the indicated drawer and gently placed his beloved motley within. He folded it carefully and petted it one last time before he closed the drawer. It felt like closing a tomb.

* * *

They returned from Solitude a week later. Elaninde had decided that she didn't want to leave the Imperial capital once she got there. Shopping for clothes took most of her time, but she made sure to make an appearance in the Blue Palace as a cousin of the Thalmor Ambassador as well as visiting the Thalmor Embassy to catch up with other justicars.

"We should go back sooner," she chirped as they rode back to Falkreath.

"As you wish, Listener," Cicero mumbled. She had forced him to pleasure her every night. He had hoped that she would weary of it if he didn't fight back at all. He had done his best to not vex her and to appear broken, but she was like a dog with a new chew toy – pleased and eager to destroy it.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of Phoebe, sweet, dear Phoebe. She would definitely be back from her contract and she wouldn't leave again without seeing him. She would let him know how the kill went and what she had found out at Dragon Bridge. He would tell her about this newest humiliation because he knew she wouldn't judge him. She would understand that Elaninde was the monster. She would hold him and make him feel better. Help make him feel human.

It took forever to carry all of Elaninde's newest possessions into Sanctuary, especially since she deigned to help carry any of them. Cicero scurried as fast as possible in the incredibly uncomfortable fancy clothes she had purchased for him. They itched and pulled in the wrong way like his motely never did.

Arnbjorn was back from Riften. "I need to talk to you about the call for the Dragonborn," he said as a way of greeting. "As a native of Summerset Isles, I doubt you know anything about it."

"Fine, love," she murmured. She led him to her bedroom. "I expected a full report anyway."

Cicero breathed a sigh of relief that he would finally have a moment alone. He practically flew to the initiates' room to look for Phoebe. To his shock, her bed was made and looked empty. She rarely bothered to make it when she was in residence.

He looked in his room and she wasn't waiting for him. She wasn't waiting in the kitchen or the forge or the alchemy room or even the Night Mother's chapel. Sithis, where was she!? Cicero finally broke down and asked some of the initiates, but none of them had seen her.

Finally, out of options, he ran outside and down the road to look for her. It was unlikely that she was on her way home from her kill because she would have ran into him and Elaninde on the road. But Cicero had to look! He had to!

Not by the lake, not in the field where they picnicked and gathered flowers. Not by the graves. But at least there he found a sign of her.

A new pile of stones had been placed under Babette's memorial. They held down a piece of parchment that Cicero snagged up, his heart beating a thousand times a second.

_Dear Cicero,_

_So much has happened since I last saw you. The good news is that no one at Dragon Bridge remembered any girl matching Babette's description. I think that means she was not with the Penitus Oculatus when they returned from the purification of Falkreath and she left thinking everyone was dead._

_The bad news is while I was there a dragon attacked the village. I had to help them so I joined the battle against the beast. There is nothing like facing a creature that can fly, breath fire, and can speak to you as you fight it. Several guards were killed, but we took it down with minimal damage to the nearby buildings._

_When it crashed to the ground, its body erupted into golden fire and something flew out of it and into me! Some of the locals insisted that it meant I was Dragonborn, whatever that is. The dragon had been yelling "YOL!" the whole time it fought us so I tried it and FIRE flew out of my mouth. Shortly afterwards, "DOVAHKIIN!" could be heard from far in the distance but it sounded like a mighty Shout._

_I was told that it was a summons from the Greybeards. I don't know what is going on, but I need to find out more. I don't know how long I'll be gone. I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you in person, but you weren't here and I was afraid if I dallied I wouldn't be able to go. I wish I could write to you, but where I'm going couriers don't follow._

_I promise I'll keep looking for Babette. And I'll come back. I promise! I know you worry about not knowing and people not coming back. But I'll come back no matter what._

_I love you!_

_Phoebe_

Gone! She was gone. Sweet, dear, kind lovely Phoebe was gone, gone, gone!

The gods' damned timing! Everything was gone now. His lover was gone. His motley! His pride. Cicero had nothing left except his role as Keeper.

Cicero looked down at the handful of stones she had left as a rough indicator of how long she would be gone. He quietly started to chuckle which grew into a loud, mad laugh that filled the quiet Pine Forest. He dropped his hand to his side, letting the twelve shiny stones, red like blood drops, fall to the ground.


End file.
